She wouldn’t really look at me. Mom could be incredibly immature and childish. Most of the time she acted as though she were younger I was. It made it difficult to relate to her as a kid to parent.
But I had also known that this was as close to an apology that I would ever get from her. I could have yelled at her for not coming to look for me. For allowing me to sleep on the streets. I could have cried and screamed at how she chose men over me time and time again. But I didn’t want to fight. I hadn’t wanted to argue.
Instead I had taken her words for what they were. A peace offering.
And after losing Yoss I had needed something to feel good about.
I had patted my bed, giving her a smile. One that I felt. Mom had come in, sinking down onto the bed beside me. I put my arm around her and she laid her head on my shoulder. She cried for the asshole that broke her heart while being comforted by the only person who ever really loved her. The person she so easily turned her back on when it suited her.
Adam hadn’t been the last boyfriend to sweep into our lives. But after those six months on the street and Yoss’s disappearance from my life, I learned to deal with it.
I focused on plans.
On making them.
On following through with them.
I had made a promise and I intended to keep it.
And Mom and I slowly came to a place where we could be almost normal together.
Almost.
I was pretty sure our definition of normal was very different from everyone else’s.
“You’re such a prude, Imi. Sometimes I can’t believe you’re my daughter. I didn’t raise you to be so conservative.”
It would have been so easy to remind my mother that she had very little to do with raising me, but I didn’t.
Picking and choosing battles had become a way of life.
“I’m on my way to work, Mom. Is there something you needed?” I asked, getting into my car.
“Can I come over sometime soon? It’s been a while since I’ve seen you.” She was trying. In her crazy, egocentric way, my mother was working to build the relationship that had for a long time felt inconsequential.
“Sure, Mom. I’d like that,” I told her truthfully. As frustrating as she could be, I would always be a little desperate for her attention.
“Okay, great. I’ll bring some Chinese food and we can watch movies. It’ll be fun!” Mom enthused.
“Sounds great. I’ll talk to you soon, okay?”
“All right, sweetie. I love you.”
My heart constricted painfully at those three little words. She said them casually. Almost dismissively.
“I love you too,” I responded. There was nothing casual or dismissive when I said it. Those words counted. Each and every time.
I hung up with my mother, feeling neither good nor bad. Which was the usual. Most times she left me…indecisive.
My life had been filled with transient relationships. I cared intensely. But for only brief periods of time. Some of that was because of me.
Some of it wasn’t.
I had long since lost touch with my friends from high school. I hadn’t spoken to Amanda Decker since graduation. I had a few friends in college, but nothing substantial.
My marriage was over and my current friendships with Lee and Tess were for the meantime.
I didn’t purposefully keep people at arm’s length. I’d only adopted that particular trait in the later part of my life.
I had grown up clinging to the people I loved. Even when I knew that holding on was useless.
But the most significant relationships in my life had occurred during a very short period of time.
Yoss. Di. Shane. Bug.
And I had lost each and every one of them.
So at some point along the way that need to hold on had changed. Altered. Twisted to fit this new, not so shiny version of myself.
Permanence was the thing I’d spent most of my life chasing. It’s why I stayed in my job. In my house. In my hometown. I was desperate for roots. But I was also ill-equipped to nurture the relationships in my life that could ground me.
I would never tell my mother all the horrible, hostile thoughts in my heart because as much as she had hurt me, I needed her constancy. Yet I knew that I had never really allowed her back into my life. We spoke on the phone, she came over to visit, but I wasn’t willing to let her in.
Because the girl who had once embraced the people in her life with open arms had grown into a terrified woman. Scared of being abandoned, I put on a smile and hid behind walls that were easy to build but felt impossible to take down.
“Imogen, hello!” Jason called out as I walked into my office. The familiar click clacking of his shoes on the tile floor echoed down the hall as he followed me.
I dropped my purse on the desk and immediately turned on my computer. I was feeling antsy.
I wanted to get up to the ICU to see Yoss.
Every day since he had been admitted I rushed through my job duties, wanting to get to that moment where I’d walk into his room and see him.
I needed the reminder that I hadn’t imagined him.
Because I had done a lot of that over the years.
Imagining.